The Pretty Ones
by DevlinV1
Summary: [FIN:2004:Slash:RAPE] Rey, Shannon, Brian, and Paul recount their stories about what it's like to be pretty in a locker room filled with men, and the horrors that can ensue.
1. Ravishing Rey Mysterio

**The Pretty Ones**

**By Archangel**

_Inspired by "Awaking the Golem" by baslady._

_**Ravishing Rey Mysterio**_

When they told me that I would be hassled, I never cared. When they warned me my baby face would get me teased, it did not bother me. Even when they told me to my face that I would be sexually harassed for being so small and cute, I laughed in their faces. I still do not regret my decisions. I love my job and everything that it has given me and my family. I will admit, though, that there are times when I wonder if maybe I should have been more careful. If I had done things differently would I still be the Rey Mysterio I am today?

Many times before in my life, even before I ever wrestled, I was mocked because of the way that I looked. Not because I am Latino. Not simply because I'm short, because that's part of being Latino. It was instead because of my face. The looks that I have inherited from many generations of Rubio's. The genes fell perfectly together in me to create a face adored and petted by many women. Unfortunately, it's also been petted by many men.

Any man who tells you they're straight is most likely lying through their teeth. Most of the men I've met in my lifetime have been bisexual. I'm the same, but I think I was more forced into it than anything. The first time was when I was only a child, barely a teenager, when a teacher of mine decided that I needed to earn my good grades in a different way. After that it happened a few times with other guys that I went to school with. It was around that time that I began working out, building my body into a force to be reckoned with, hoping maybe those _hijos de putas _would think twice before trying to take me again. It worked. For the most part.

Amazing that it wasn't until I came to the WWE that those same old problems began to reveal themselves again. Once I became comfortable enough to remove my mask in the locker room the trouble began. I didn't mind the laughs or teases. It didn't bother me that they thought I looked like a child. I knew my baby face got me many, many female fans, and a beautiful woman to be my bride. Soon enough, though, it became all too clear that some people were not just amused by my appearance, but were attracted to it, too.

"_Whatever you do, Rey, do not go into that locker room alone. Hear me?"_

Mark Calloway's wisest advice to me was never heeded. I was a fool to think he was wrong. I had to learn the hard way I guess. I always have been stubborn. Thankfully, it only happened once. I made it too difficult for them, fighting, kicking, screaming, anything to keep them from enjoying me. I didn't stop them, but they must've decided I wasn't worth the effort. That, and they couldn't hurt me very much. My mistreatment in childhood made it easier on me. I never thought I could be thankful for being raped, but I was. It seemed to make everything in life seem that much easier.

Perhaps it was the rape and the molestation that made me Rey Mysterio. Maybe I became the strong man that I am today because I survived those tortures. I don't know. All I know is that for all He has put me through, God has also been very kind. I must've proven myself worthy for I now have a life I never thought possible.

_Sobreviviré. Soy Rey Mysterio. Sobreviviré..._

**Next: Stunning Shannon Moore**

_Legalities: Rey Mysterio, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	2. Stunning Shannon Moore

**The Pretty Ones**

**By Archangel**

_Inspired by "Awaking the Golem" by baslady._

_**Stunning Shannon Moore**_

The most amazing thing about coming to the WWE was the vast amount of guys here who are completely gay! Go ahead and burst laughing at that comment, but in a way it's true. Look at me after all. Look at Matt. Well, actually, don't look at Matt because he's been known to bite. In fact, I think it was his biting that saved me from… Well, I'll just tell the story.

We all know that Shannon is a cutie. Like I said, just look at me. I'm short and have a young face, baby fine blond hair, and a sweet enough smile. And just as expected lots of people noticed it. I became a sort of coveted prize that a select group was trying to win. A couple of them would try the innocent method of becoming my friend and hoping to earn their way into my pants. Others felt a more direct approach of shameless flirting and bucket loads of dirty suggestions would get through to me. When none of it worked on any of them a few gave up. The more determined ones turned to rougher methods.

There were two in particular who had their eyes on me, both of them seeming almost desperate to get a piece of me. There's just something about young boys for most of them. I guess it's the desire to take away innocence or to taint purity. Not that I was really any of that, but I do look the part. And they knew that I was really straight even if I was overly affectionate when I was drunk. The two of them became good friends of mine, or so I thought, and we would go out to party together often.

One evening we had been doing just that, partying, and I was completely plastered. I was hanging all over anybody who was willing to let me do so. Of course my two friends were more than happy to encourage my alcohol induced warmth. When it became far too late for even grown drunken men to be out partying they escorted me back to the hotel and told me they would help me to my room. In the elevator I noticed that they weren't pushing the button for my floor, but before I could say anything Matt shoved his way onto the elevator. He smiled at all of us and spewed out a story about going out for a late night jog, which wasn't really odd to hear from him because he keeps an odd schedule. He became very concerned for me, pushing one of my friends aside so that he could put his arms around me. He started petting on me, babying me, and getting so close that even I was beginning to get a little nervous. He even called me by a pet name he'd never used before.

When we got to my friends' floor they started to pull me with them, but Matt protested. He wouldn't let them put any more alcohol in me, explaining I had a busy day to sleep for, which was a bold faced lie. He finally got them to go away and the two of us made our way to my floor and my room. He supported me as I staggered down the hall, but nothing more. His odd kindness had disappeared. He stopped in front of my door and looked at me with the deepest worry.

"_Shannon, you can't go out drinking with them anymore. They were planning something. Something bad."_ Of course, I defended them, but he went on. _"Trust me. I know. I'll tell you everything…"_

That was when he looked up over my shoulder, frowning even more. He pulled me into his arms tenderly, his lips brushing my temple before moving down to my ear. I barely heard him whisper for me to scream his name. I remember wondering why the hell he would want me to do that, but then I got an answer. With only a small lick at my skin he set his teeth and bit down as hard as he possibly could, drawing blood from the spot he'd chosen on my neck. At first I only gasped in pain and clutched at his shirt. I was about to shove him off when made the command for me to scream again and then nibbled none too lightly on the wound. I couldn't help but cry out from the stinging, but I made sure to say his name. I barely noticed that he was pressing me to the wall or that his hands were roaming over me until he was pulling away. At first I was terrified that he was attempting something… Well, you know what I'm implying. All he did was look down the empty hall and sigh in relief.

"_They're gone. They shouldn't bother you anymore now."_ He lightly fingered the bite mark on my neck. _"I'm really sorry, Shan. At least they'll think you're taken now."_

He let me into my room then and left me alone for the night. By then I was so tired and nauseous I didn't even think about what he had done to me. It wasn't until the next day when I saw the mark in the mirror that I called him to demand what the hell had gone on. It turned out my 'friends' had followed us to my room, which was why Matt put on a big show of being so dominant over me. He explained that the bite he'd left behind would be a reminder to them that I belonged to Matt Hardy. Of course, he didn't mean any of it in reality, but it would keep perverts like them away from me. It wasn't until I heard him explain all of that that I realized exactly what those two had meant to do to me. I think I nearly cried, thanking Matt over and over again for protecting me from such horrors. That's why Matty is my very best friend and to this day I still bear the scar that he gave me. Actually it's only one of the many injuries I've gotten from him, haha!

I was just lucky. That's what it all boils down to. I was lucky to have Matt to constantly protect me. I shudder to think of the other 'pretty boys' who don't have a powerful ally like me.

**Next: Beautiful Brian Kendrick**

_Legalities: Shannon Moore, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	3. Beautiful Brian Kendrick

**The Pretty Ones**

**By Archangel**

_Inspired by "Awaking the Golem" by baslady._

_**Beautiful Brian Kendrick**_

Now is the time for the story of the one who let himself break.

I'm Brian, Spanky, or 'Beautiful' as I was called in the locker room. I'm the one that didn't get let off easy, unlike Rey. I'm the one that had no one to protect me, unlike Shannon. I'm the one who was their favorite pastime. I'm the one who was their bitch.

I'm sure I sound almost proud of it here in written form. I'm not. I may even sound like I just don't care. That's far from true as well. Once you hear my story you'll understand everything.

There was no hesitation from them. The very first day I was in the back, before I ever even stepped in front of a camera, I was the object of everyone's desire.

Don't think for a second I'm being arrogant. I repeat, I am _not_ proud of this.

The truth is written on my face, however, that I am beautiful. I have fair skin and fair hair and green eyes that seem exotic to everyone who sees them. I'm slender and graceful, though, that doesn't quite show through when I'm in a silly mood. I have a dashing smile. I have intelligence, charm, charisma. Heh, my mom thinks I'm a catch! wink No, but really. Before I even was around long enough to go streaking through the arena I was already being called 'Beautiful' instead of anything else.

In fact, it was that streaking incident that caused it all to start. Walking through the halls in nothing but a scarf, sweaty and panting. I may as well been wearing a big sign that said 'fuck me in the ass' in bold red print. The worst part was that the writers and the staff and even the damn head honcho knew it would cause me trouble. All for the sake of the show. It got me my push, and it got me pushed to the floor of the locker room with a group of five of my fellow wrestlers ready to see my hips buck for a reason other than dancing.

That first time was thankfully the worst as far as the physical is concerned. The five of them tore my body to shreds inside and out. After that it wasn't so painful each time it happened. I guess the five of them loosened me up permanently.

Too bad it can't stop the things that it does to you mentally. It starts small. A nervous breakdown. Then after that it starts to make more long term effect. Such as a fear of closeness, paranoia, uncontrollable depression, and complete and total self-loathing. Not to mention that smell. That horrid awful smell that comes from sex that's a mixture of human musk, sweat, cum, blood, and of course my own ass. And they say anal sex is clean. Heh, not when you're not properly prepared for it people! Maybe if these guys had given me fair warning they wouldn't have been bitching about being filthy after they were through with me. They were filthy… How did they think I felt with a blood and cum mixture dripping from my torn asshole?

I'm sorry. This is probably a little too graphic for some of you. I just get so mad when I think about how I just let it go on and I tend to be very blunt when I'm angry.

To get back to my original point that I was intending to make, I was the bitch that everyone passed around like some mind blowing sex toy. Heh, I guess I would be considered one of the really expensive ones from Japan, huh, with all my ZERO-ONE work. Anyway. Rape became a regular part of my job for the longest time, but it was starting to take its toll. I was becoming so unhealthy in mind and body. I knew it was all going to snap.

Then it did, right into my best friend's face. I still say it's partially his fault. He's the one that started coming on to me. What was I to think? We were in the locker room showers. Most of my most horrifying experiences have taken place in there. And he decided it'd be a good idea to walk up to me, wait till he had my attention, and then lean down and kiss me. As soon as he did it, in fact I think before he even stopped, I started sobbing. Part of me still says that I started crying into his mouth. I'm not sure. I know that the look on Paul's face was one of complete confusion and horror when I started pleading with him to not touch me. That was when he realized everything that had been going on with me.

"_Please, Paulie, don't you start it, too. I thought I could trust you of all people. I don't want you to be just another one of those monsters who feed off my body."_

To this day I don't know what went through his head when I managed to choke out those words. He left me alone in the shower immediately and we never spoke of it again, going on as if nothing had ever happened. But it did happen. And he knew that I was their toy. And the shame and guilt was too much. So I ended it all.

Now I'm in Japan. I'm happier now more than ever. I look back on the WWE and see nothing but a horrid nightmare that I woke up from. I still have the scars and the emotional barriers that will most likely cause me to never have a decent love life, much less any sort of sex life. But I'm free of the torment now. In a way.

I return to those locker rooms every night. Every time I close my eyes I can feel the hands on my body. I can still smell that putrid odor covering my flesh even when I've recently showered. They tainted me and I know it. The thing is that no one else knows it. No one can smell it on me or see the handprints that I can't seem to ever wash off no matter how raw I rub my skin in the shower… Only I know. I live with it as best I can.

Everyday is the same routine: wake up, shower, try to wash away filth with no success, choke down breakfast, bring breakfast back up, cry for an hour, go to gym, eat lunch, go to work, come home, skip dinner, load gun, put it to my head, think about Paul, think about family, have millionth near-nervous breakdown, drop gun to floor, fall asleep on couch to sound of 'I Love Lucy' reruns, get up and do it all again.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

To think that at one time it was my dream to be in the WWE.

**Next: Pretty Paul London**

_Legalities: Brian Kendrick, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


	4. Pretty Paul London

**The Pretty Ones**

**By Archangel**

_Inspired by "Awaking the Golem" by baslady._

_**Pretty Paul London**_

Dear God, is he ever going to get off of me? How long has it been? An hour? Two? Or maybe a mere fifteen minutes. I don't know anymore. I can never tell. I lose all sense of time and space when this happens. I've lost so much precious time in my life because of this. It's stealing my life away. It's stealing me away.

Fuck! No. Bite your lips. Don't scream. Don't give him the satisfaction. Just close your eyes and will yourself away. Think of something else… Think of Brian. No. Don't think of Brian. That hurts more than this. Think about home. No, that doesn't work. Home is nothing but bad memories and disapproving parents.

Oh God! Will you stop already! You're not going to get a sound from me you sick bastard. I don't care how much it hurts. I don't care how many times you do it. I don't even care how many times I have to go to the hospital to have them repair the damage you do. I'm getting used to the accusing stares. I'm getting used to the humiliation. I just wish I could get used to you. I wish I could enjoy this. You'd probably stop if I did. You want to hear me scream. You love to see me cry. Stop licking my face! Please, let go of my arm. I can't wrestle if you break it.

Actually, break it. Go ahead. Then I'll have more tactile proof that you really did rape me. They'll actually believe me this time. They won't just tell me I'm a bitchy boyfriend. They won't tell me I shouldn't have chosen a man so much bigger than me. They always assume. Just because I'm gay. Of course, I asked for this didn't I? I just begged to have myself torn nearly beyond repair, to be beaten, to be crushed beneath your weight, to smell that awful fucking breath in my face.

Why do I always have to face you? That's not normal for a rapist to do that. Why must I look at you as you violate me, attempt to break me? Or is that part of your mental game? You intend to break me and facing you while you do this has some part of that. It's probably working. I hate to look at you. I hate to see you looking at me. I'm ashamed. You know it too. You feed off of it just like you feed off of the tears leaking from my eyes and the blood leaking from further below.

You take so long. I bet your wife is impatient as I am. I wonder if she knows the things you do. Does she get the same treatment? I feel sorry for her. She's a lot smaller than me.

Ow! Let go of my nipple! Ugh, why the fuck do you try to keep my attention? Just get yourself off and be done with it already. Man, my thoughts are starting to sound like a disinterested old bag of a wife. Bet your wife has all the same thoughts as me. I should say that to you, but I like my head on my shoulders better than torn off and tossed aside. You'd probably fuck that hole too if given the chance.

What are you doing? You think you're going to get me off? Is that your delusional OW! Nope. You just want to hear me scream. Well you can yank it off if you want, I'm not OWWW! Fuck! Please stop. Please. No, God, that hurts more than the rest! Please stop! Please!

"Beg for it."

What? Beg for what? For you to stop? For you to be nice? Give me more? Beg for a fucking biscuit like a good puppy? Oh fuck, you sonuvabitch! Stop!

"Beg for me to make you come."

Do you even realize I nearly laughed in your face? I'm not begging for anything, but _especially_ not _that!_ You really are demented. God, I wish you'd let my dick go. You aren't supposed to squeeze anyone that hard!

What was that sound? It sounded like… Oh God I'm crying. No! I'm not going to let you win again. Not this time. I swear to God I won't. Even if I have to bite through my lip again I'm not going to let you hear me cry. Not again. Not again. I won't give up, give in, give you the pleasure of breaking me. I will not break. I won't be like Brian. I won't break. I'm unbreakable. Unbreakable. Unbreakable…

Ugh! Get off! I can't breathe! Oh fucking God, you smell! Get your sweaty lardass off of me or I swear I'll… I don't know. Just get off. Dear God, get him off of me.

Don't look at me. I can't stand that triumphant smile. There's no triumph here you motherfucking sick sonuvabitch. You didn't win. I'm still here. Unbroken. I won't run away. I won't hide behind someone else. I won't scream and cry and fight for you to stop. I'll do what I always do. If I can. No. I can. I can get up. I swear even if I pass out in just a few second I will stand up and walk away from you like nothing happened. It's the only thing that saves me. The fact that I know inside that I'm the one who wins. I don't cry or scream or beg and I get right back up again when you're through.

"Ya know, if you'd just do what I tell you it'd be a lot easier on us both." Back the fuck up you bitch. Don't touch me! "I could get you places. I can talk to people and get you off of Velocity."

"I'll get myself off of Velocity just like I got myself here. I haven't hit the ceiling yet."

Stop laughing. "No, kid, you hit the floor instead. Every single time I want you to, you hit the floor, but you look so good when you're down there."

Fuck you. Fuck you and your entire fucking family. I hope you all burn in Hell. I know for a motherfucking fact that you will. I hope Satan makes you his bitch just like you're trying to do to me. I repeat, though, there's no way you'll get by with this shit. Someday, even if it's after you die, you'll pay for it.

"Be sure to come back soon, London. Maybe they'll be an encore presentation later tonight."

Oh, how lame. Can't you see what a jackass you are?

"Sorry, but I've seen this 'big show' too many times. It bores the hell out of me."

"Don't try to start it, bitch, or I'll take you again right now."

Oh, there's the threat of the century. And I know you can see how _not_ scared I am just by the look on your face. Don't you fucking get it? It doesn't matter how much you hurt me. It doesn't matter how many times you do it. The only reason it even happens is because you're too strong to fight off. Otherwise I would slaughter you.

"I'm not a bitch. I'm just a shell. I'm only an empty warm little toy you can stick it in. That's all I'll ever be to you. You'll never get anything more than that from me." Am I really saying this out loud? "You'll never break me."

Wow. That had an impact. As much as I hate to admit it I better fucking leave now before you really do decided to go at it again. I don't have the will to handle it twice. I know it. It's hard enough to keep myself steady just once. Sometimes I just want to give in. I want to close my eyes and relax and open up to you. I want to let you in, encourage you, get you to lube me up and prepare me. I want you to stroke me with those huge hands and make me moan and beg. Sometimes it's so tempting. It'd feel so much better than all of this pain. I could even close my eyes and pretend you're someone else. I could enjoy it.

But then you would win. And I will never let that happen. Nope. Not gonna happen, because I won't break.

I am unbreakable.

**The End**

_Legalities: Paul London, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


End file.
